


Long Walk Home

by Ilthit



Series: Trope-Bingo: Troped [4]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Future Fic, M/M, Rivals to Lovers, Trope Bingo Round 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troy left Abed in 2014, but he came back and everything was okay in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Walk Home

**Author's Note:**

> Aka I am a broken shipper held together with spit and fix-it fic. Also for the Trope Bingo square "rivals to lovers".
> 
> The title is from a Citizen King song. I have no self-respect left.

2015.

Abed realized he'd been blinking for a while now without really seeing the screen. He could roll that transition forever, and it could be as clean as to approach perfection, and it would still not solve the problem with the scene's rhythm. He might have been over-ambitious trying to match the symmetry of the film to every scene's internal symmetry. If it wasn't for Kubrick and Greenaway, he would have stopped trying long ago.

He saved the project and shut down. The living room was dark save for the blinking lights of electronics and the faint city glow outside. Someone passed the door in the hallway, hurrying home, high heels clicking on the concrete. Abed slipped off his shoes, padded across the floor, and opened the door to the ex-Dreamatorium.

The bedside light was still on, but Troy's laptop (like Troy) had gone to sleep. Abed picked it from his boyfriend's lap and set it down on the desk, then shed his clothes and climbed into bed.

"I'm awake," said Troy and fell back to sleep. Abed watched him for just a moment, reminding himself that he had a boyfriend and it was Troy and that this was his actual life, then reached over and flicked off the bedside light.

\--

2003.

By the time Abed was sixteen he was aware how these things worked, so he wasn't exactly surprised when getting a prom date with a cheerleader meant the opposite of what it would have in a movie about high school.

Mercy had disappeared somewhere after their second dance. He'd seen her with her friends across the hall, but by then he had noticed people noticing. The pack was moving in.

He couldn't blame her for getting cold feet. She'd seen those movies too, but this was more like 90s indie comics, or a John Hughes film without the happy ending. Her character was more complex. She could only handle being the heroine with a golden heart if the audience was properly moved and the weird kid astonished and grateful rather than anxious and dismissive. She'd come for accolades, not stigma.

If you were the weird kid, it didn't matter if what you did was actually, objectively, cool and brave; you were weird, so by extension what you did was weird, and doing weird things meant you needed to be punished.

He sent her a quick text, then took off through the crowd. The letter-jackets followed. By the time he reached the door he was already running.

\--

2015.

Troy didn't have any appointments until the afternoon, but Abed had the last class before the exams at 9:30, so Troy made coffee, special drink and hot water for Annie's tea, then went back to the bedroom. Abed was lying straight up and down with his hands by his sides like a doll, which might have seemed odd if Troy didn't know Abed had slept in a narrow bed all his life, or that there was a time in the night when his limbs would be all over the place, including on Troy's face.

Sitting on the bed and bouncing the mattress didn't do the trick, so Troy curled his fully-clothed body around Abed and kissed his cheek. "Morning."

"Mmm," Abed intoned, grabbed Troy's shirt-front and pulled him on top of himself.

Abed had horrible morning breath, so Troy buried his nose in the crook of his neck. "You're going to miss Astronomy."

"Britta is taping it."

"You are _so_ going to miss Astronomy."

Troy could have rolled off, only he knew Abed liked the weight and in any case Abed was massaging the back of his neck, humming in his ear, and those were compelling arguments for staying. Among the many reasons why being boyfriends was better than being best friends was that now no part of him thought it weird how much he loved being touched by Abed.

It was better than the best food you could eat (ice cream) or the most awesome movie you could imagine yourself falling into through a high concept plot device. It was better than scoring a goal. It was better than all of those things combined, because ice cream didn't love you back, movies had to end, and football called you a loser if you didn't do all the things right all the time. 

Abed was better.

\--

2009.

Troy had thought he knew how to behave around dudes who were his friends, especially when it came to sports. First you practiced for ages until you were really good at some things, and then paced your awesome for maximum impressiveness in the court or the field. They liked you when you were good at things, and then you made gorilla noises at each other and it was somebody else's turn to be good at things. A little competition never hurt Troy, especially if he was going to come out on top in the end.

Abed just didn't seem that impressed, and it looked like he didn't even know about the gorilla noises. He moved like a giraffe, but a giraffe who was always in the right place to catch Troy's ball. Troy realized he had no idea what Abed's next move was going to be, even when they were practically nose to nose under the basket and Troy had been bouncing the ball for what felt like minutes trying to break through Abed's defense.

He kept looking for hints in Abed's eyes, but after a while he was just looking.

\--

2016.

The house in LA was small, flat, and identical to at least three dozen houses lining it on either side, but it had their last names on the mailbox, and on the narrow front yard there was the tool shed Troy had built with his dad when they first moved in. Currently it was also distinguished by the five-foot mechanical shark splayed over the lawn with its stomach open and jaw bisected while Troy tinkered with its insides.

They had already jumped it, like, five times, but Abed had a movie deal lined up, they were having thanksgiving with their Greendale family, someone in New Jersey had just 3D-printed a 3D-printer, and with all that he wasn't really worried about a projected drop in the level of awesome.

All life was borrowed time and endings could always screw you up. It was still worth it.

 


End file.
